School's Not Out For the Summer: The 112th Hunger Games
by MRKenn
Summary: Maia and Ruby's second SYOT. No arena hints, but maybe you could tell from the title. SYOT closed, but you can still enjoy!
1. Prologue-ish

**Hello. If you're reading this, I have altered the first chapter because it was simply a "Rules and Info" and that's illegal. I don't want to get my story taken down, so here's a "Prologue." Actual story starts at Chapter 5, I believe. Everything before that is just filler like this so I'm not breaking any rules.**

Unimportanta Brainless, 17, Capitolite

OMG. The 111th Games were the best _ever!_ I don't know how they're going to top that. Maybe if they added monkeys! Or geese. Is geese the plural for goose? I think so. What's the plural for moose? Meese?

Mom walks in a snatches the phone from my hand.

"Play outisde, Unimportanta." she scolds.

"NO! Give me my phone!" I yell t her, crossing my arms. Mom looks at me sadly and then holds my phone to my hand.

"Oh, all right." she says, sadly. I take my phone back and giggle madly. I love getting whatever I want.

* * *

 **Again, to read the actual start of the story, the District 1 Reapings, skip ahead to Chapter 5. There is an actual chapter called "Teaser Interview" with the Head Gamemaker at Chapter 3 if you're interested.**


	2. Placing The Bets Already

**Tribute List**

* * *

 **District 1 Female: 7 submissions**

 **District 1 Male: 3 submissions**

 **District 2 Female: 3 submissions**

 **District 2 Male: 1 submission**

 **District 3 Female: 1 submission**

 **District 3 Male: 1 submission**

 **District 4 Female: 1 submission**

 **District 4 Male: 2 submissions**

 **District 5 Female: 2 submissions**

 **District 5 Male: 2 submissions**

 **District 6 Female: 3 submissions**

 **District 6 Male: 2 submissions**

 **District 7 Female: 2 submissions**

 **District 7 Male: 2 submissions**

 **District 8 Female: 1 submission**

 **District 8 Male: 1 submission**

 **District 9 Female: 2 submissions**

 **District 9 Male: 1 submission**

 **District 10 Female: 2 submissions**

 **District 10 Male: 1 submission**

 **District 11 Female: 1 submission**

 **District 11 Male: 1 submission**

 **District 12 Female: 3 submissions**

 **District 12 Male: 2 submissions**

* * *

 **NOTE: Not first come, first serve. No reservations, and PM only. You can submit up to four. I'll accept all, some, or none.**

 **UPDATE: REMINDER. NOT FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE! If a slot is filled, you can still submit to it. I'll just have to choose who I like better.**

* * *

 **A POV so I don't get reported.**

Unimportanta Brainless, 18, Dumb Capitolite

Yes! I'm so excited for the Games! I wonder who they will pick this year. Probably someone really strong. I hope so. Maybe I should get my hair dyed for the Games. Blood red! HAHAHAHA!

Oh, now I'm getting silly.

Mom walks in and scowls.

"Dye your hair, sweetie." she says.

"Well, I was gonna, MOM!" I yell at her.

* * *

 **There, reporters. Are you happy now?**


	3. Teaser Interview

**_Prosperina Dew, 30, Head Gamemaker_**

* * *

My shiny red high heels clunk against the tile floors of the hallway. I begin to nervously rub my baby bump; I have to do an interview today, to "tease" the audience with the news of the latest Games. They have gotten fairly bored with the Victor of the 111th, and are already beginning to talk about what this year has in store. The Reapings aren't for another two weeks, and the Victory Tour was disastrous, leaving a bad taste in everyone's mouths. Even President Aloe just survived an assassination attempt, which rattled the Capitol. Luckily, in a few seconds, I'll be on stage, and everyone will focus on me. And nothing else.

Man, those lights are blinding. Multicolored, too, blurring my vision. It's a wonder that I got to my seat without stumbling. As if the lights weren't bad enough, this volume is deafening. So much so that I can feel it in my bones. A bit of the tension is released when I finally make it to my seat, next to Aurelia.

"Hello there, Head Gamemaker Dew!" she squeals, folding her hands together. The sparkles coming off of her dress are intensified by the bright lights, making her look like a fairy.

"Hello, Miss Polishire!" I say back, in an unnaturally high-pitched voice. "You know, I'm just feel honored to be here tonight!"

"I'm glad to hear it! I'm equally as glad to see that you are showing!" I pat my large stomach, smiling.

She opens with a somewhat easy question, asking me if I'm satisfied with how progress for the 112th Hunger Games has been.

"It's been good, we are putting the final touches on the arena," I say coolly, daring to wipe a bead of sweat off my forehead. The audience begins to clap and cheer, as if they want to hear more.

"Can you maybe give us a little idea as to what we'll have in store this year?" Aurelia inquires, slowly leaning into my space with a silly grin on her pale face.

"Patience, my dear Aurelia," I chastise, crossing my arms. "You'll just have to wait and see. But if I were to give you one hint," I begin, pulling my hint item out of my pocket.

"It would be this."

I hold up the key item, an apple, to the audience. Some shout excitedly, some seem confused. But if they were to think for just a moment about what the item I'm holding could entail, they would know exactly what the tributes are going to face this year.

"An apple?" Aurelia says, stumped. "What's an apple supposed to mean?" She begins to ponder for just a moment, before perking up.

"An apple orchard! District 11, maybe?" Aurelia suggests. I make no gesture or emotion. I just give the crowds a menacing smile.

"Like I said, you'll just have to wait and see." I tell the hostess. She giggles lightly, remarking about how she "just can't wait for these Games!"

The rest of the interview went by in a blur. Aurelia started asking about the Victor from last year, earning a collective moan from the audience. We act seemingly oblivious to it.

"Where is he now?" Aurelia asks me, curious.

"In an asylum," I glumly answer, "getting the treatment he needs, and hopefully he will return to our open arms soon." The audience gives me polite applause, and I'm soon given to final question.

"How long to do think you will continue to be Head Gamemaker?"

That question strikes me to the bone. I had come up with an answer hours before, of course. But I wasn't too keen on using it now. I do something horrible. I wing it.

"I will keep the job I love until I don't love it anymore," I reply quietly. The audience goes silent for a moment, the silence interrupted by a standing ovation I don't deserve.

* * *

 **A little Prosperina bit. I like writing her. I have gotten many submissions so far, which ROCKS! Keep em' coming, you can submit up to four! Pointless little Pre-Reapings like this might come out every now and then until I release the final tribute list. Or this may be the only one. We'll see. Sorry if this chapter seemed pointless, but I like writing stuff like this :) stay tuned for more SNOFS.**

-Ruby


	4. A Fresh New Batch

**There is a pointless POV at the end so I'm not "breaking rules".**

* * *

 _The Final List for the 112th Hunger Games_

 **District 1**

Female: Vinna Hegarty, 18 (tracelynn)

Male: Blaze Linerheart, 17 (Tribute00)

 **District 2**

Female: Ruri Adulaia, 16 (Winter's Writing)

Male: Remus La Rocque, 18 (American Pi)

 **District 3**

Female: Nell "Tink" Tinker, 12 (CelticGames4)

Male: Euclid Bolton, 15 (CallMeLegend)

 **District 4**

Female: Dawnette "Cyrena" Floryn, 14 (rubykenn)

Male: Troy Jackson, 17 (Greywolf44)

 **District 5**

Female: Colleen Tosse, 17 (Platrium)

Male: Jeff Montiya, 17 (TheReaper94)

 **District 6**

Female: Juniper "June" Ryder, 17 (david12341)

Male: Shard Eithel, 16 (MessyModgePodge)

 **District 7**

Female: Theodosia "Theo" Mulroy, 17 (aceswims)

Male: Glade Sanafel, 16 (Cat of Flame)

 **District 8**

Female: Bobbin Taper, 12 (kgeesy)

Male: Drendel Maultier, 16, (Singlewave)

 **District 9**

Female: Aviana Lyle, 18 (recklessinparadise)

Male: Andrew Hayden, 16 (Adithya23)

 **District 10**

Female: Glenna Corinth, 15 (HogwartsDreamer)

Male: Lyo Seville, 14 (tracelynn)

 **District 11**

Female: Jeanne Racobi, 16 (TheReaper94)

Male: Spud Bamberg, 14 (SilverflowerXRavenpaw)

 **District 12**

Female: Kamarie Benicio, 13 (Winter's Writing)

Male: Levi Coalester, 16 (Christoph Andretti)

* * *

 **Since some cruel people with cruel intentions have been reporting stories with little reason, here's a short text at the end so I'm not breaking rules.**

Unimportanta Brainless, 18, Capitolite

Yay! The Games! I can't wait. All these tributes look so fun. I'm betting my money on Spud. Why? Because I like french fries. No, chicken nuggets are better, actually. I wonder what the arena will be this year. A garden? Ohh, yay!


	5. District 1: Vinna and Blaze

_**Vinna Hegarty, 18, (1F)**_

I take the pen from my ear, tapping it softly on my notepad. My hungry eyes examine each and every name hastily written on this sheet of paper, the names of my victims. No, not my victims. The people who got in my way.

 _Beauty Harris..._

She was one of the few who were unfortunate enough to actually live. When I started the Academy like Mother told me to, I was determined to become the female tribute from 1 by the time I was 18. By my calculations, that would be the 112th Games. By then I had formed a powerful group of minions, or friends as some people call them. There's Blush, my right hand woman. For some reason she thinks we're best friends and sometimes acts as such. Whatever keeps her happy. Anyway, when I was 12, I was only ranked 12th out of 43 in my class, no matter now hard I worked or how much I pushed myself. So, my little friends aided me in my quest to climb to the very top. And that meant picking each girl one by one. And as much as I hate to admit it, I couldn't have done it without them, especially Blush.

Speak of the devil, the very girl who was just in my thoughts spots me sitting at the beautiful fountain in the center of northern District 1, nicknamed "Shine". Shine is were most wealthy people live, as well as Academy trainees. Blush sits down next to me, eyeing my list.

"Is that your hit-list?" she asks naively. I nod slowly at her, flashing the girl a devious smile.

"I'm thinking about making this my token. It'll be a reminder of everyone I eliminated so that I could get here. And on the back," I say while flipping over the paper to reveal new names, "is everyone who helped me get there." Blush, well, blushes when she sees her name at the very top.

"I'm honored to be on your friends list, Vinny," Blush chirps. I chuckle a little, turning the sheet over again to continue drinking in every last name on the sheet.

"A lot better than being on the hit list, that's for sure. Do you remember Bijou Cameron?" I ask her, the very memory of that pitiful girl flashing before my eyes.

"How could I forget?" Blush recalls, giggling nervously. After I had wiped out nearly everyone in my way, there were only two girls left. Bijou Cameron and Janelle Melaine. Janelle was in good shape to become the female volunteer, and I knew I couldn't let that happen in a million years. It may seem crazy, but I love dressing up as other girls to sabotage them. Especially when you're dressing up as the girl 2nd in line to the volunteer throne to kill the girl 1st in line.

When Janelle's blood was stained on my hands, courtesy of my favorite throwing knife, I made sure they got a good look at me in the dark before I fled. The girl they saw exit the house still containing the cooling corpse of Janelle sure looked like Miss Cameron. Same long, mousy brown hair, wearing the same scarf from her mother that she always wore. The authorities concluded it was Bijou hours before they raided her house and threw the stunned girl in jail. While she's in prison, rotting, I'll be in the arena, probably kicking ass better than she ever could.

"And do you remember her face when she kept saying she was innocent?" Blush snickers, holding her side.

"Of course I do! 'Please don't arrest me! I didn't do a thing! Please!'" I mock, using an over-exaggerated version of Bijou's nasally tone. Blush bursts out laughing, even hiccuping afterwards.

'Well, I have to pick a Reaping dress so I look 'absolutely marvelous'." I say in a Capitol accent. Blush asks if she can come.

"I have some errands to do afterwards, dear," I tell her, wagging my finger. Blush looks deflated as I wave her goodbye, speed walking out of the fountain plaza as the sun beats down on my head. I check my phone to see a new text from Kaela, my genius apothecary.

 _It's ready._

Those two words are all I needed to read. Soon I'm sprinting to her house, nearly breaking my heel on the concrete. I also have to shove my way through a few children, and I'm panting like a dog by the time I'm done with my nearly half-mile sprint. I lightly knock on Kaela's door, which she cracks open, her beady eyes peering through the small opening.

"Come on in, Vinna," she says in a soft voice, shutting the door behind me and locking it several times.

"So, where is it?" I ask impatiently. Kaela tells me to follow her into the kitchen, where a pungent smell reaches my nose. I smile wickedly as my eyes see the clear liquid on the counter, inside a pretty and harmless perfume bottle.

"And you're sure it's small enough to sneak with me?" I question, inspecting the bottle.

"I'm positive. They would never let you take it with you as a token, so I figured just stick it in your bra," she explains, holding back laughter. "and don't tell _anyone_ about it."

"Of course not. I'm not stupid," I retort, wrapping my bony fingers around the bottle, shoving it in my purse and heading for the door.

"I would love to stay, Kaela, but I have to go shopping." I tell the short girl, waving to her before quickly leaving the bad-smelling house, and even more texts start piling.

 _Come to my house!_

 _Hey Vin, meet me at Shining Facets, pronto!_

 _You going out today?_

"Sorry, gals," I whisper to myself, burying my phone back in my pocket. "Vinna's got something way more important to do."

Once I'm to the best dress store around, _Victor's Glitz,_ I spot someone who I thought would never show her face again in public. Beauty Harris. An ironic name for sure, because beauty is the last word I would use to describe her. She's lived in shame as a recluse ever since she nearly died of me poisoning her.

According to my best spy, Goldie, she was hacking up the contents of her stomach for weeks, even if she could barely hold down water. Beauty was so suddenly ill that her parents didn't know what to do and withdrew her from the academy. I don't think I've seen her even step foot within 100 feet of there. She was one of my first targets, as well as one of the lucky ones. I guess I didn't put enough in her bottle that day, because the dose of arsenic was supposed to be fatal. If it means anything at all, she lost vision in her right eye.

Once I pass Miss Harris, who definitely spots me as she's dashing away in fear, I enter the posh store to be greeted with a bell and the cheerful voice of the owner, Mrs. Sterling.

"There's the woman of the hour!" she squeals, instantly running up to me and hugging my slim body way too tight.

"That's enough, please," I groan, working my way out of her grip. She said a week ago that she had a surprise for me, and the lady didn't disappoint. Mrs. Sterling is ushering me over to the dressing room, where my gift is.

"It's in the third one down," she says, pointing to the changing stall. "Try it on!"

I open the creaky door of the small cubicle, grinning as I see myself in the mirror. I don't know why, but the image of myself always makes me smile.

But what makes me smile bigger is when I unzip the plastic bag hanging on the door, revealing a lacy red dress that shows off my curves. I eagerly slide on the dress, my giggles turning into a cackle. I look like a blood goddess.

"Like it?" Mrs. Sterling asks from the other side.

"It's amazing," I answer, almost breathlessly. I almost don't want to take it off to pay. I want everyone to see me, this towering, magnificent woman looking her best, and for them to know that their female this year will not be a flop like the last couple of years.

I reluctantly take off the dress, stowing it away in its bag. _Don't worry, Vinna, it will be worn later._

"So how much?" I ask her, fishing my hand in my purse.

"Don't worry about it, dear," the elderly woman tells me. I look up at her with wide eyes, surprised.

"Really?"

"Just pay me when you come home." Mrs. Sterling suggests, winking her foggy grey eye at me. I take winking as an insult, but this time, I just wink back at her.

Carrying my lovely dress in a square-ish paper bag, my phone starts going nuts again. Now I have _15_ missed messages.

 _Vinna!_

 _Hey come over!_

 _Where are u?_

"Well," I say out loud, loud enough for the shoppers around me to hear. "I guess servants do need their master."

* * *

 _ **Blaze Linerheart, 17, (1M)**_

I woke up hours ago but I had never fully risen. I'm almost in shock, considering today is the day I have to leave. At first I felt obligated to volunteer but now I have no choice. I'm not the chosen volunteer. But volunteering is exactly what I'm going to do.

It's 9:30 now. The Reaping isn't until 12, so I have a few hours to regret my decision. The money I saved up for years when we were all going hungry could have been spent on food for us, but that's like living off your savings. It won't last forever. It's not unheard of for outliers to volunteer to feed their family, although it rarely happens considering their lack of skill. But I know I have skill. I could destroy pretty much anything if you handed me a mace. I could live off of whatever plant this year's arena provides me with, and I can tell if it's poisonous. I, as a Career, am probably trained to perfection. Maybe I lack confidence, but it's not like I'm afraid of dying. I'm afraid of my family dying if I don't come home. And I wasn't chosen. Martyn Sterling was chosen. But he doesn't have a family to feed.

Poverty might seem like something that only happens in the lower districts, but a lack of food is all-too real here. My mother and little brother, Liam, have gone to sleep many nights with an empty stomach. My father is practically a ghost, because he's always out looking for a job I know he'll never find. I had to take a lowly job at age 12, a jewel miner. The sapphires I laid on the table at the end of the day is what paid for me to enroll in the most prestigious Academy in all of One. I can only hope all the blood, sweat, and tears will be worth it.

 _Now you're just wallowing in your own misery, you idiot._

I finally manage to get up after a few minutes of wiping the sleep from my eyes. As per usual, I don't have a suit to wear, only my old Academy uniform that is way too small. I look at myself, dismayed, as the elbows begin to tear when I make the slightest movement. I can't go to the Reaping like this. Not dressed like a peasant.

Seeing my fancy black jeans lying aimlessly in the corner of my room, and idea pops in my head. Maybe I don't have to look formal at all.

I tug off my sleeping shirt and pull the tight jeans over my boxers, straining as I struggle to zip up the leg-suffocating pants. Once they're finally on, I can barely move, but I look like fire. I steal my dad's old suit coat from his nearly empty closet, and finish the look off with a bow tie laying in my junk drawer hanging off my neck. And my hair gets its hair share of gel.

I knew the moment I stepped into our small kitchen, Mom would be displeased. And she sure was.

"You can't go dressing like one of the Academy rejects, Blaze!" she bickers, pulling off my bow tie and throwing to the floor. I stiffly bend over to pick it up, trying not to rip my jeans.

"Well, I don't have a suit." I snap at her. "I have to at least be bold."

"Bold?" Mom asks, snickering. "That's your angle? I thought you were going with seductive!"

I roll my eyes, pulling out my chair and slumping into it. I have to start hugging myself as cold air beats onto my exposed skin. But as I start to seriously consider putting on a shirt, someone comes out of nowhere and drapes a blanket over my shoulders. I turn to see the pale face of my little brother.

"Hey, thanks," I tell him, patting him on the head. He starts digging into his dry toast, grasping slice after slice with her tiny fingers.

"You nervous, Blaze?" Liam asks me with a full mouth. Mom gives me a deadly look, causing me to nervously clear my thought in response.

"Not at all," I answer, making myself sit up straight. It shouldn't be too hard. The first one to volunteer is the tribute. No one can volunteer for a volunteer. I just have to be fast. I know I'm fast.

This whole thing is starting to make me feel terrible. Everyone keeps telling me to become a miner, or a hair stylist, or a goldsmith. But the Academy is where I excelled. I wasn't the best but I was close. And it felt like my heart crumbled when I found out I didn't make the cut. But there's a solution to every problem. When I proposed it to Mom a few months ago, she was hesitant at first.

 _"But would you even do it in time?" she asked, not on board. I explained that it was very simple, that I would just volunteer before Martyn. Careers usually wait a few seconds for dramatic effect, but I would yell those two words the second the Reaped kid's name reached its last letter._

 _"It could really help us, Blaze. Are you sure about this?"_

 _"I'm sure."_

But if the districts and especially the Capitol are going to like me, I can't just blend into the background. I need to be bold. while the girl is probably going to be another ditsy, hair-twirling flirt, I can be remembered as "Blaze the Bold." Nah, that's silly.

Breakfast was over before I knew it, and the clock read 11:08. I wave my immediate family goodbye, not really noticing the absence of my father. As usual. Sadly it's something I just got used to after a while.

While walking to the square, I spot the local florist, Marie, weaving pastel-colored flowers in her hair while sitting on a rough wooden bench. The younger girl almost looked pretty, with her pale green dress and pink shoes. As I prepare to compliment the girl, something completely different exits my mouth.

"Hey, Marie. Less flowers and more skin." I spit at her. Marie looks horrified, but then hangs her head, ripping out the flowers.

"Screw you," she whispers under her breath, glumly walking away. I stand there, a little surprised at what I did. But if I get sensitive over calling a girl a name, I'm not the right person to be beheading children. So I just tell myself to not worry about it. If I'm going to be a tribute I have to get thicker skin.

I spot my best friend, Ben, as we prepare to check in. This guy is one of the few I could count on during hard times. He's dressed to the nines today, wearing a ink suit with his long blonde hair slicked back. I always liked it when his hair was worn like that. But I shouldn't make him feel good about it, especially when I'm about to volunteer for the freaking Hunger Games.

"Woah, Ben. Pick someone different to dress you next time." I tell him, chuckling. He crosses his arms at me a my finger is pricked.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he says, surprised. "Oh, wait. You're trying to be a cocky One boy today. That's fine. Just don't be an ass when you come back, Blaze." Ben abandons me as I make my way into the eighteen-year-old section, somehow spotting Martyn Sterling himself only around fifteen people over. I guess it's a small world. My best friend's words linger in my head. I am being an asshole. But I can't be soft. The last thing I want is to be soft, especially when word spreads that I'm not the chosen volunteer.

"Welcome, welcome, District One, to the Reaping of the 112th Hunger Games!" our new escort, Alice, cries out to us. The whole square cheers and shouts, in a much more jovial mood compared to the outer districts during this time of the year. She gives a short speech before clicking on the same drab video. But I don't use that three minutes and forty-seven seconds to be enlightened on the history of the Hunger Games. I use it to continue repeating two vital words in my head.

 _I volunteer._

 _I volunteer._

 _I volunteer._

"And the female tribute for this year is..." Alice begins, pulling out a slip from the large glass bowl.

"Majest-"

"I volunteer!" a voice declares.

Yes, soon enough, the female volunteer makes her way to the stage. She's a tall, slim, and pale woman, her red dress harshly contrasting her complexion. A part of me is scared to have to be on the same team as her.

"And now, for the males!"

This is it. The moment of truth. I might be making this way more dramatic than it needs to be. My breathing becomes shallow as Alice unfolds the paper.

"Jaxon Ord-"

"I v-volunteer!" I shout at the top of my lungs, quickly racing to the stage as grunts of disapproval rise from this audience. Who is this kid, they're probably wondering. Why isn't Martyn Sterling standing on that stage?

Well, the answer is simple. Someone's gotta pay the bills. I can't decide if what I'm doing is brave or stupid.

* * *

 **Yay the first reapings! My deepest apology for the wait. I wanted to make sure it didn't seem rushed. I hope the creators of our lovely District 1 tributes are satisfied! I sure am. Pretty simple, next is District 2. I'm going to try to get these Reapings done ASAP so we can move onto the Pre-Games! Also, I have a question regarding alliances. Do you guys want me to make alliances myself, or would you like to handle that? Last year I only got district partner alliances, which isn't bad, just not very interesting to write, I guess? But it's completely up to you. Let me know in your review. :) and I will try to come up with a sponsor system soon, or if I'm even going to do one. I'm open to suggestions! Thank you for reading, and as always review! IT HELPS! :D I will see you next time!**

 **-Maia**


	6. District 2: Ruri and Remus

_**Ruri Adulaia, 16, (D2F)**_

As I stood on that stony Reaping stage, all eyes on me and my every move while the wind battered my stiff face, all I can think is one thing, drowning out the male name being drawn.

Why am I on this stage?

...

I figured it all out by the time I was 10 that most kids my age like having their name known. Here, the culture of our district is to be models for the rest of the world, and for the Capitol to shape us in any form they like, usually resulting in brutal, almost emotionless Careers that claim countless lives without thinking much of it inside that arena. When Nina, my best friend, and I pass the Academy and peek through the windows to see young children practicing decapitating mannequins, it makes me glad that I chose a different path.

While I was never that committed enough to enroll myself in the Academy, I still wanted to do something with my life. Being a Victor is cool and all, but I didn't have to kill children to establish myself. I tried to impress my peers by getting involved in many different activities, none of which succeeded. The unworn ballet shoes and and corroded instruments shoved in my closet are constant reminders of this. I believe by this time I was nearly 10 and was starting to give up on my failed hobbies. That's when a certain school project came up. I told Penina that I maybe wanted to use a mock talk show to discuss how important shale is to oil production. But my best friend isn't the safest tomb to seal even small remarks like that, much less secrets. Word quickly spread, and many students actually got excited to see me to this, much to my surprise and delight. But by this time, it was mid-summer and the 106th Hunger Games were cranking up. Our two volunteers were looking as scary and bloodthristy as ever, and all the hype was about them. My little talk show idea faded into nothingness. But this guided me in the right direction, or at least gave me motivation. If everyone got so excited over the thought of a talk show, what would they think about a real one?

It was way more popular than I ever thought it would be. Soon it was a daily ritual to film it to the part of my district that had TV. It was mostly a teens show but that didn't stop Ruri Time from attracting adults, too. That isn't to say I didn't have my fair share of copied shows, but mine was the best.

 _"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our host, Ruri Adulaia!"_

That opener gets me every time, I don't know why. Sitting at that desk with Penina and giggling and chatting with her before starting the first segment of Ruri Time brings a certain joy to my heart.

After giving my usual intro, I kick right into the first segment, one that was usually popular around Hunger Games season, _Truth or Dare._ But this particular truth and dare is what sealed my fate, and is why I'm standing on this stage.

Nina handed me a sealed golden slip of paper, containing my dare. Nina herself is covered in egg after she broke an egg over her head after she blindly chpse the dare card. I open the paper to find the word "dare" written in red pen, with smeared black pen below containing the actual dare.

 _Dare: Volunteer for the Hunger Games!_

I read aloud the paper slowly to make sure I'm reading it right, causing Nina to hiccup. We're filming this live, so I can barely react. But I still make a rare move. I deny the dare, for the first time.

"What? But Ruri, you have to do the dare." protests Nina. I nervously grind my teeth, but quickly stop myself and plaster a smile on my clammy face.

"I just... I mean, what kind of dare is that? If I went into the Games, Ruri Time wouldn't be as frequent without me. It wouldn't be as good, even if I won." I tell the camera. Nina taps her chin in thought, mentioning that it wouldn't exist at all if I happened to die. I flip the paper over to read the name of the person who sent it. Katarine Rockwell.

I think it's safe to say that she was my second best friend. We were closer when we were a little younger and shared common interests, but Kata has kind of become obsessed with the Academy ever since she enrolled at age 12. That didn't stop her from making a few appearances on Ruri Time. In fact, she was the secondary co-host for a little while. Around the time I received this fateful dare she hadn't appeared in a while on the show and her and I were slightly out of touch. I assumed she was busy with training. Kata was at the top of her class and was in good position to become a volunteer. So why would she want me to volunteer?

I was a fool for even taking something as small as that seriously, but everyone kind of pushed it in my face. Almost everyday at school it was the same thing. Are you gonna volunteer? Are you gonna uphold the dare? Are you chicken, Ruri?

So, on my fourteenth birthday, I walked into the drafty lobby of the Academy of District 2 with my mom and dad anxiously trailing me, and I looked up at that tired-looking lady at the desk and told them I was interested in enrolling. I still remember how my mom almost fainted into my dad's arms, but what was even funnier is that he was struggling to stay conscious himself. All I had to do was sign a few papers and I was officially enrolled.

I knew all I would have to do was "graduate", which basically meant completing my education there without actually being picked. I was pretty relieved that by the time I was 15 I was ranked 43 out of 203. Not bad, but nowhere near the first and second spot. I thought I had outdone myself. My own experience there was fine, save for the prissy Isabel Farnese, who seemed to despise me and Ruri Time for reasons I wouldn't find out till later.

A few years after I had received that dare, a few months before my Reaping, Kata walked up to me while I was practicing with a butterfly knife, a weapon I was quite skilled with by that time. It was a little awkward since we hadn't actually talked since we were 12. But she still acted like we were friends, to my relief.

"Hey, Ruri," she said warmly, a little too warmly. The girl was 17 now, and a towering figure. But she still had her pasty, childish features and stringy hair.

"H-hi, Kata." I reply back. I put my knife back on its rack before turning back to her. I felt a little bad for her inside. She had lost her position as volunteer to that awful Isabel, who ruthlessly bullied Kata into giving her the spot. Through some gossip from her friends I know she hates Ruri Time and probably me personally, because she tried to create a copycatted talk show of her own which failed. I guess, like Kata, she found solace in the Academy. And now, out of every trained girl in the district, she got the spot. And considering her brute strength and wit as well as the rumors of a weak male tribute, she'll probably win. And then I'll never get a break from Isabel.

"Still going to volunteer?" she asks me jokingly.

"Hell no," I hiss. "Isabel is making sure that never happens." Kata chuckles sadly, looking around to make sure the cruel girl wasn't right behind her.

"Good," Kata replies. "I actually don't want you to die."

"Who said I was gonna die?" I shoot back. "Maybe I'll do it next year." Even though the dare has stuck in my head all these years, my resolve is slowly weakening as bigger and badder girls who have a better chance of winning start popping up. I honestly would rather just do Ruri Time my whole life.

But now I never will. My name was pulled from that Reaping bowl. When I calmly stood up here at first, I somehow made eye contact with Isabel, the girl who was supposed to volunteer for me. But she just gave me a twisted smile. If I died, Ruri Time would be obsolete. It would simply vanish. But what reason would she have to opt out of the Games just to make my innocent talk show get cancelled? I thought she was delaying simply to scare me at first but she never yelled out those two words. Those words would have saved me. Since they never passed Isabel's lips, I knew right away that I was going into the Hunger Games with a session of Ruri Time to tape two hours later. Hearing Nina's wretched wails in the crowd makes me think that's not going to happen.

* * *

 _ **Remus La Rocque, 18 (D2M)**_

I always pass the Victor's village on my morning runs. Seeing the fancy, bustling, gated-in community always reassures me that going into the Hunger Games is a good idea, and that it will all be worth it soon.

Curious, I stop my run and peek into one of the houses. I see Sparta Hood reading a book in her living room, looking relaxed. I've always wanted to just chill out in my luxurious lather chair and kick back, knowing that this comfort will follow anywhere I go. That basically sums up life in the Capitol. It's the reason I've always wanted to live there. I honestly can't wait to see what it's like when we arrive.

Suddenly I feel a hand on the back of my shoulder. Naturally, I jump away from this strange touch, but when I turn around to find the culprit, I sigh in relief as Grey, my favorite Peacekeeper, reveals himself.

"Sorry, Rem," he chuckles. "Didn't mean to startle ya."

"It's all good," I reply, rubbing my neck. Grey inspects my sweating body, almost impressed.

"Going for a jog?" Grey asks me.

"Yeah. My dad told me that going for a jog before the Reaping is good luck. It doesn't hurt to try," I explain to Grey, out of breath. The weary Peacekeeper snickers and heads away from the gate just as the sun starts to rise.

"It's a big day, right?" Grey asks, grinning.

"Yes, sir." I reply curtly.

"Well, I gotta get back to the station, Rem, I've been surveying this place a while. I guess I'll see you at the Reaping. Have fun," Grey says before heading away in the other direction, beaming. The Reaping isn't until noon. I still have a few more hours to head to my favorite place in the whole district before getting ready.

As I expected, I passed quite a few people who still criticize me just to hide their own flaws. A scrawny boy and his plump friend start ridiculing me the moment I go in their sights by the time I reach town.

"Look, it's the prissy One boy! You know that you were chosen because of luck, right? You know that?" he asks in a mocking voice.

Lucky for me, ignoring these types of people has become a skill of mine, and after not responding to their insults, this truly defeats them. One of the boys stays silent while the other really starts to get worked up. Eventually a woman who I'm assuming is their mother comes and escorts them back into the store they came from. I just walk along, almost pretending it never happened as I open the door of the my favorite shop in town.

Every time I walk into that jeweler's store, it feels like the first time. The people who own the place, an elderly couple originally from 1, are about the only people in this place that I like and can relate to. The lady, Mrs. Rustboro, smiles warmly at me as she steps out of her booth after retrieving a box from her desk.

"I'm so glad to see you, Remus. I have a little Reaping surprise for you," the old woman says, dropping the box in my rough hands.

"Open it, open it!" Mrs. Rustboro insists as I lift the cardboard lid off, revealing a shining green emerald sitting on a bed of crushed velvet.

"I know you love authentic District 1 jewels, so I thought this was perfect." she tells me as I stand there, my jaw dropped.

"Thank you very much." I say rather formally, bowing to the old woman. Mr. Rustboro, who is working at a jewelers bench, almost doesn't know I'm here. Mrs. Rustboro quickly explains to me that he can't find his hearing aid as I eye the old man.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for your big day?" she tells me. I look at the clock to see that it's already 10. I still have a little but of time but I've always liked showing up to the Reaping early to look at the escort and even the team of Avoxes that come set up the decorations of the stage. Avoxes are such beautiful creatures. Silent and graceful, a little mysterious. Not to mention their sharp, impeccable style. I'm sure I'll be waited on by one in the Capitol.

My run home is rather pleasant. I hardly ran into anybody, and the sun peaked from behind the clouds a little by the time I was unlocking my front door, my emerald still inside my pocket, thankfully enough. My little sister, Roma, who might be my favorite person in the world, runs up to me excitedly, wearing a fancy princess outfit.

"Who are you today, squirt?" I ask Roma, who is drinking a glass of fake champagne in the form of apple cider.

"Marie Antony-ette," she mispronounces, twirling around.

"Look what I got today." I say as I fetch my gem out of my pocket, and Roma nearly drops her glass onto the ground as she sees the sparkly green stone.

"An emerald! My birthstone!" Roma gasps.

"And _my_ token." I remind the little girl. She's 13 now and ready to start becoming her own person, but at this point, she loves luxury and splendor just as much as I do. My parents never seem to understand it, but thankfully they don't forbid it. Speak of the devil, my mother comes into the hardwood floored hallway and smiles.

"Back already?" she questions me.

"Well, I want to take my time, Mother. Shouldn't I look my best on this day?" I tell her, toning down any sass.

"Of course Remus, but you're going to the Reaping, not on a date." she spits at me.

"I know, I know."

Roma is called into the kitchen by Father, leaving me to rush upstairs and change into my best suit. It's still in its pristine bag when I get to my room. I rip it open and find my tuxedo with its silk cravat. I dress myself carefully, not wanting to do anything to damage it. Once it's on my body safely, I comb back my hair and, as a little spark of defiance, work a pink rose into the breast pocket of the coat. This little rose will probably set them off. A little rebellion on Reaping day can't hurt a man. When I walk downstairs, Father spots me and immediately doesn't seem to like what he sees.

"Remus!" my dad complains, crossing his arms at me.

"Oh, come on, Dad. It's just a flower" He sniffs the open air a few times, scrunching his nose.

"Do I smell cologne? Remus, why are you wearing cologne? You shower twice daily. This is going too far." Mother walks into the kitchen, holding a cup.

"You look... over the top today." she says, out of words.

"I'll take that as a compliment," I fire back.

After breakfast, I jog to the square, half an hour early, avoiding the crowds who will probably shoot more mean remarks at me. I don't know why my whole district is having a hard time accepting their strongest trainee as the chosen volunteer. Their reactions when I win will certainly be interesting. I get my finger poked and quickly rush into the eighteen year-olds pen.

More and more children flood the square, bustling with excitement. But as I stand idly by in my area, boys begin to file into their own pens, all looking at me and whispering tensely to their friends.

"Did you hear he was born in One?"

"He can't go an hour without food."

"Prick."

Again, I just stare blankly ahead, pretending they aren't there. Soon I'm almost buried in all the boys squeezed in the roped-on space, and I'm struggling to get a good view of our escort's latest piece, a silk frock with a diamond trim on the neckline. A little modest but still charming.

"Hello there," she says happily, "welcome to the Reaping for the 112th Hunger Games. Lemme get some noise!"

The crowd starts to go wild, cheering a whistling, eventually cut off by a gunshot.

"Alright then," she whispers, unsettled. "Let's watch our video and then pick the tributes." The Capitol lady clicks on a screen behind her, which flickers slowly to life, revealing a shot of smoking ruins. Most people ignore this, but I find it respectful for the Capitol to enlighten us with history. So, I watch every three minutes and forty four seconds respectfully.

Once it concludes, the moment of truth comes. I knew my partner was going to be Isabel Farnese, a snobby but fierce girl who would make a good ally. The escort draws the girl name, reading it to the audience.

"Ruri Adulaia!" she cries. A girl from the sixteen-year olds emerges from the pile, looking calm. She would only be up there for a few seconds, anyway. But as she stands up there in awkward silence and more seconds pass, my stomach starts to twist into knots. Is Isabel going to volunteer?

That question is answered with more silence. My heart starts beating abnormally fast as the girl's face crumbles when she realizes the female volunteer chickened out, or was sick, or got hurt. Whatever the reason, she was going into the Games. The last thing she expected to happen today. I start hearing cries from the crowd as the male name is pulled and I start preparing myself.

"Samuel Tomsen!" the escort shouts. She had to raise her voice over the sound of Ruri taking in big gulps of air in a vain attempt to calm herself.

"I volunteer!" I shout back, just a little louder. The second I mount the stage, the discontent grows and soon I'm being booed. But I was prepared for this.

"People of District 2," I say, beginning my adlibbed speech in a booming voice. "I know you may seem hesitant to have me as your volunteer. But I worked my way on this stage, and I think I deserve to be standing here." I try to ignore the shaking and crying Reaped girl next to me, who has a formed a puddle of tears below her.

"I promise, I will not disappoint. I will bring home a much-needed Victory for District 2 this year. I promise." Once I stop speaking, the crowd went from jeering to scattered applause. It's a start, at least.

"Well, there you have it, folks. Please give a round of applause to our tributes this year, Ruri Adulaia and Remus La Rocque!" The clapping speeds up a little, partly because they have to, and because Ruri next to me seems to be struggling to hold back more tears.

* * *

 **Whew. Again I apologize for these giant gaps. So we have the District 2 duo this time! I honestly really like them a lot, thanks to Winter and AmericanPi! So I've done some thinking, and I think I will make alliances this time around, mostly because I have a few ideas in my head. XD I hope that's okay with you all. Thank you for reading, remember to review, and I will see you next time!**

 **-Maia**


	7. District 3: Tink and Euclid

_**Nell "Tink" Tinker, 12 (D3F)**_

I shriek in surprise as Axel steals the rubber band ball from the end of my hockey stick. It's actually a broom, but sometimes you have to improvise.

"Ha! I'm gonna fire this one!" Otto shouts, receiving the ball from a giggling Axel. He swings his broom hard and lifts the ball off the ground with a single stroke, sending it hurling in the air and out of our fenced-in concrete playing field. All of us hustle to the fence to try and retrieve it, but we awkwardly stop inches away from it, looking at each other to see who's going to save our ball.

"I got it!" I shout to them, leaping onto the metal fence and struggling to keep my footing in the small openings.

"Wait! Couldn't we just go around?" Caleb calls out to me.

"Too late!" I yell back, leaping down into the dead grass and grasping our crude ball, hurling it back over the top of the fence. I start getting worried when they continue play, even though I'm still on the other side.

"Hey, wait for me!" I cry out, quickly scampering up to the top and landing hard on my feet. I rush to pick my stick as I notice Isaiah closing in on my team's shoddy defense. As I rush to the scene, he's already shot the ball into the goal, pumping his fists in victory while the rest of my squad hangs their head in defeat. Isaiah always looks so cute when he's smiling, which is pretty much all the time. It's the reason I sometimes can't stop looking at him.

"Ready to call it a day?" Axel asks us, wiping his sweaty brow. We all nod to him, sweating just as hard, as the five of us file out of the arena, satisfied and exercised.

As we all drag our brooms across the ground in a single file line, chatting about our game, Otto tugs my arm and points straight ahead of me.

"Tink. Look," he says in a tense whisper, motioning to a light green house that almost looks out of place in our gray, bleak city.

"What about it? It's just a house," I say, confused. Caleb snickers, rubbing his hands together and looking at me almost evilly.

"It's not just any house. The family of a certain unpleasant snake lives there." he sneers. As soon as he said the word 'snake', I knew who he was alluding to.

"Leslie." I mumble, a bad taste already in my mouth. If there's anyone who causes me displeasure just by thinking of her, it's our school's rich, stuck-up school bully. I guess she moved out of the neighborhood she used to curse.

"Hey, you know what would be fun?" Caleb asks us, rubbing his hands together mischeviously.

"What?" we all ask, almost in unison.

"As a fun little pre-Reaping prank, we should T.P. and egg Leslie's house. Just in case one of us gets picked, we'll leave a little something for that brat to remember us." Pranks are fun, yes, but getting caught is always what I'm afraid of. But the Reaping _is_ tomorrow, so what's the harm? I wouldn't have much of a choice anyway, everything is already nodding in agreement.

"Wanna help us, Tink?" Axel offers, grinning madly. I roll my eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

"Why not," I groan.

My friends start celebrating, jogging in a cluster to the market to retrieve what we need to make this official. After a while we finally get to the bustling area, almost losing each other several times in the crowd. Reaping day usually calls for gift-giving. I honestly don't really know why a day like this is celebrated, though.

Otto tosses me a coin and assigns me to egg-finding duty, while he goes to get toilet paper, and lots of it, he says.

"I want her her house covered. Like, so much you can't even see the house. So much that all you see is toilet paper and eggs. So much that-"

"Okay, I get it." I say tiredly. Otto chuckles and dashes off to find his prize. I stumble in a random direction, my eyes searching each and every booth, desperately looking for a chicken booth. There has to be at least one here. People eat eggs, right? And we _need_ eggs. I mean, T.P. on its own is cool, but eggs makes a huge mess, a lovely mess, for that rich kid's maids to clean. Not to mention she'll walk out of a house smelling like rotten eggs for quite a while.

After what felt like an entire eternity, I come across a booth with chicken eggs neatly nestled in cartons sitting on the counter, while several stray chickens roam in the back. The clerk is a weary-looking lady who flashes me a toothless smile.

"How can I help you, missy?" the lady asks, her voice raspy.

"I need 5 dozen eggs, please." I ask as politely as I can.

"5 dozen?! You making an omelet or something, girly?" she asks, appalled.

"Y-yes. An omelet. A very big one," I hastily lie, dropping down my gold coin onto the wood counter and stuffing the egg cartons in my bag quickly as I notice my friends leaving the market.

"Hey, wait! You need your change!" I hear her yell to me.

"Keep it!"

I sprint over to the rest of the boys, who are waiting impatiently at the entrance. Isaiah smiles at me as I come back, which sends a shiver down my back. I have to stop myself from quivering.

"Wow, you struck gold." Isaiah muses, giggling at me, while looking in awe at my supply of eggs. We almost meet eyes until Otto walks over, stepping between us.

"Got everything, Tink?" asks Otto, rubbing his chin.

"Oh, yeah. I got more than enough," I tell them, opening up my bag to reveal a mass of eggs, many of which surprisingly unbroken. I'm barely holding back laughter as we rush back to Leslie's neighborhood, the sun dipping below the horizon. The darker it gets, the safer we'll all be.

"What's the gameplan?" I ask them, an egg already in my hand. Caleb explains that Axel and I will pelt the left side of her house with eggs while they cover the right side with toilet paper. It doesn't look like anyone's home yet, but they could come back, which is why we have to hurry.

"Everyone ready?" Axel asks all of us, eggs clutched in his arms. We all take a moment of reflection on the ridiculous act we were about to do, but then stop thinking about it too much. Thinking ruins all the fun.

"GO!" shouts Isaiah, sending a whirlwind of toilet paper and eggs forth. They splat against the side of her house in a satisfying manner, each eggs yolk exploding but then slowly oozing down, creating yellow stripes of egg. The toilet paper is sticking to the yolk substance, hanging off the house almost like bandages. I start going a little nuts, because I'm throwing _three_ eggs at a time now. Isaiah starts hitting windows, coating the glass in egg whites and fogging them. He throws on near their garage in an attempt to pelt it as well, but he threw way too hard. Rather than hitting the garage door, he hits the window of the car parked near it, which to my surprise, just completely shatters. He stops dead in his tracks, looking at me sheepishly, before a blaring alarm goes off. We all start to panic a little, trying to figure out what to do.

"Oh no..." Otto whimpers.

Turning my head in every which way, completely desperate, I thankfully spot a tall fence at the end of the row of houses, sprinting towards it.

"Guys, I found a way out, c'mon!" I tell them in a tense whisper, grabbing Isaiah by the wrist and dragging him forward as the others trail us.

"Nice save, Tink." he whispers to me, breathing heavily. Isaiah hauls me over the fence, straining, until both my legs have swung over the top. My heart starts pounding when I see bright lights coming from the house we just egged. It takes me around another three seconds to realize that a car is coming home.

"Hurry, I see a car!" I hiss to them, helping Axel down as his feet smack down on the concrete. Caleb jumps down next, holding the remaining toilet paper in his coat pockets. Isaiah is the only one left on the other side now, and we all hold our breaths when we hear footsteps approaching.

"Isaiah, let's _go!_ " Axel whispers harshly. The boy struggles his way up the fence just as the footsteps get louder and louder, and I almost want to faint in relief as he's safely on the other side. But through the fence we can see a figure, a rather small one, that seems to be wearing a pastel pink dress. I smile weakly as the eyes of a little girl meet mine. We all turn to leave, our job done, but suddenly a piercing noise fills the air.

"MOOOOOOM!" she wails. I choke on air, gasping like a fish out of water. We all turn on our heels, and that started a long, exhausting, and quite scary sprint back to our base, where we would be safe. All the while, as we're panting and sweating and wheezing, I look at Isaiah for a split second, and he returns my look. I almost can't tell in the dark, but I think he's blushing. We stick together for the rest of the run. All the while, one thing stick in my mind. I wouldn't trade this thrill for anything.

* * *

 _ **Euclid Bolton, 15 (D3M)**_

I'm usually always the first one to class around the time of the Reapings. Something about seeing all the depressed children flooding the halls, not saying a word to each other makes me even more glum than I already am. I doodle aimlessly on a scrap of paper I dug from my backpack, stopping for a moment to see what exactly I've drawn. It seems to be me standing on a block, with tears pouring down my face.

Just as I crumple up my shoddy artwork, I hear the door click open, with my friend Tom entering, grinning wildly at me.

"Happy almost Reaping day, Euclid." he says in a high-pitched voice. I just sigh at him, resting my head on my palm. Rain already starts to pound down outside, fogging up the windows and darkening the classroom.

"You seem down," he teases, ruffling my hair playfully.

"I am. I just hate Reapings." I tell Tom. I honestly would ave loved to have given him a snarky response, but if there's a time of the year to be nicer to people, it's now.

"What are you talking about? I love them. Seeing children get picked to die is quite rejuvenating." he says tiredly, pulling out a binder, presumably for class.

"And," Tom whispers, leaning in. "I've heard from some _very_ reliable sources that the Careers are soft as pillows this year." I give my friend a sideways look, hardly convinced.

"Where did you hear that?" I ask Tom, scratching my head.

"Sources," Tom spits back. He opens his binder, revealing a pile of papers with somewhat well-drawn portraits on them, and a caption beneath.

"This is Villa Heart," he tells me, holding up a picture of a blonde girl with pink eyes. "She's weak. Super weak." He discards the paper and takes out another, this time the sheet of paper containing a blonde boy with spiked-up hair.

"This is Blair Linear, he's _super_ soft." Tom insists, but then ripping up his picture as the door once again opens. "He's a bloodbath." The person entering is my other friend, Ben. He looks a little confused as he sees the ripped up paper on the ground.

"Who's a bloodbath? Me?" Ben jokes, setting down his backpack that seems to weigh a ton by the way he's rubbing his back.

"No. The One male." Tom answers. Out of nowhere someone plants their fingers into my shoulders, startling me.

"What did I miss, what did I miss?" My best friend Martin shouts, earning a mean look from our teacher, but then buries herself back in her book.

"Tom says District 1 is dying in the bloodbath his year." I tell Martin, who sits down on my desk.

"Nah. You're dreaming." Martin snickers.

"It can happen sometimes." Mrs. Briser, our teacher says, peeking from her book. "Fifteen years ago both District 1 tributes died in the opening minutes because they starting toying with some younger children. And before they could even react... some outliers gave them a knife to the gut." We all just stay silent, not knowing how to respond.

"Well, that was a while ago," I spit out, breaking the silence. The latest Victor was a Career, much to my dismay. And a crazy one, at that. Around a month or so ago some dismembered bodies were found around his apartment. Well, that's what Tom told me, anyway. For the sake of me being able to hate that man's guts more, I believed it. Another Career will probably win this year. No Parcel Day for us.

"Sure was. Maybe this year everyone will be twelve. Or thirteen. And everyone except the Careers dies in the bloodbath and the Games end on Day One." Martin jokes. We all burst into laughter, almost sad, forced laughter.

Class passed by pretty quick. After an hour of zoning out Mrs. Briser's lesson, the bell rings loudly and snaps me back to reality. I quickly walk out of the classroom, unsettled by the earlier talk of the Games. On the way to second period I pass room with a putrid smell coming from it. I peek in and see some children in goggle tinkering with some chemicals. I feel bad for never getting into stuff like that. I know my parents want me to be a technician or scientist so badly, but that stuff was just never fun for me.

Strangely enough, I pass another opened door, this time containing people designing colorful posters.

 _That's more like it._ I say in my head, smiling. I would have loved to sign up for this class, but Mom and Dad would have been so disappointed. I know they love me or whatever, but when they spotted colored pencils in my room, they vanished the next day. I used to own paint but it ended up in the trash. A little disheartened, I head over to my second period and just stay quiet, like I always do.

In my math class, one of my least favorite classes, pictures of all the previous Victors hang around the room. Arista Tennard. Liam Aldair. Spatha Hood. Stella Lorraine. I've always wondered what it's like to be a Victor. I mean, you have infinite amounts of money, you live in a big house. You have everything. Including the memories of the arena.

I'm early again, so I pull out a book provided from Incense Vasquez's library. I always look forward to when she comes. She doesn't have just chapter books. She also has books about animals, bugs, gemstones, all kinds of stuff. I crack open a book with a dog plastered on the cover and let myself get engrossed in it. I've always wanted to be a dog walker. That sounds silly but anything other than ones and twos and technology.

I never liked math. So much so that I didn't even realized I drifted off, and blaring bell an hour later confirmed that. A few giggles that came my way caused my insides to crumble.

The rest of my school day passed in a blur, I almost didn't want it to end. The Reaping was tomorrow, I may not come back to school next week. No, I will. My chances are so low.

I maybe shouldn't have, but I walked by the Reaping stage. There are already Capitol flags waving, banners strewn. The extra Peacekeeping force brought in for the Reapings already have their trucks parked in the square. My stomach drops when I see that big glass bowl sitting on its special table, and another one right next to it.

No one's here. I could do it if I wanted to. I'll take a risk for once and just peek. See whose name I draw.

I creep up to the concrete stage, trying to put all my weight anywhere but my toes. Soon I'm crawling like a baby up the stairs, covering my mouth so I don't sneeze or anything. I gingerly rise to my feet, taking in the sight before me. The glass bowl that decides the fate of two children. I fish my hand into the bowl, eagerly ripping open the paper I retrieved to find a name written neatly on it.

 _Martin Armsten_

"Oh, God," I think out loud, horrified. My best friend's name is in my hands. I don't know if the escort would have grabbed this exact name, but I just decreased his chances for sure.

"Hey, kid, what are you doing? Scat!" a nasally voice calls out, followed by a clomping of high heels. "The Reaping isn't until tomorrow! Wait... what do you have in your hand, young man?" the lady screeches at me, trying to chase me but soon fails in her ridiculous shoes. I look back to see the Capitol lady on the ground, rubbing her knees. I laugh as I run way from the square, home-free. I don't think I've ever been this excited to share a story with my friends.

* * *

 **I AM SO SORRY! My finals week has been insane. Thank goodness it's over. Chapters should be getting out a little quicker now that summer is almost here. I hope you liked Tink and Euclid, and make sure to review! Thank you for reading, I'll see you next time!**

 **-Maia**


	8. A Note (and POV for the reporters)

**Hey, Maia and Ruby here. Sorry this isn't a new chapter. As of late, my computer has been experiencing some technical issues. What kind of issues, you may ask? The touchpad and mouse has stopped working. My computer is currently getting checked out at the nearest shop and is not in my possession. I'm even posting this on my phone. XD So, sadly, it may be a while (a few days specifically) until I'm able to post the District 4 Reapings. Sorry 'bout that, folks. Here's a POV so the reporters don't lose their tiny minds. Expect the next chapter soon!**

Stupidita Simpleton, 21, Friend of Unimportanta

"Oh, Unimportanta! I can't wait for the parade!" I shriek to her, playing with my green hair. Unimportanta giggles. I've always wondered why that's her name. I wonder what sick, cruel, twist of fate brought her into existence. I hear a noise around the corner of the room, and I go and check to see what it is. It's a short, tired-looking teenager wearing a raggy grey hoodie, with dirty hair and prominent bags under their eyes.

"I could r-report you! You're breaking t-t-the rules!" they whine in a high-pitched tone, tapping wildly at their phone. I pluck the device from their hands, giggling.

"Sorry, squirt. How about you go out into the world and actually make some real friends instead of preoccupying your time with something so meaningless?" I tell them. They start wailing, almost like a baby. I think they even wet their pants, and snot's running down their face.

What a loser.

* * *

 **Ah, don't you just _love_ these reporters?**

 **-Maia**


	9. District 4: Dawnette and Troy

_**Dawnette "Cyrena" Floryn, 14 (D4F)**_

5:30 in the morning is probably too early to wake up on a day as important as this. But I couldn't help myself. I just had to watch a replay of the 106th Hunger Games one last time before I go to the Capitol, featuring my favorite Victor. Sirena O'Hara.

Everything about that woman is so admirable. From her gorgeous red locks to her down-to-earth charm, she's the perfect Victor and the perfect Mentor. We just had a Victor last year, but everyone has already forgotten about him. Not me. I'll be remembered for decades.

"Dawnette! Turn down the TV!" my younger sister Shelby shouts from across the hall. I fetch the remote hidden in my fluffy bed sheets and adjust the volume to which the screams of the bloodbath are slightly less audible but should not be heard from outside my room. I've woken my little sister countless times to the sound of a twelve-year old being decapitated.

Now Sirena is wading through the turquoise waters of the tropical island arena she was placed in. Two Careers trail her, looking for their next victims. Out of nowhere, a tropical-looking bird bursts from the trees and starts ruthlessly pecking at Sirena's pack. But I've watched this enough times to know that this doesn't stop her. Although for some strange reason, the bird scares me every time. Sirena makes quick work of the bird, slicing through its chest and grounding the dying animal. As it lay on the sand, twitching, she stomps on it to put it out of its misery.

"Boom," I imitate, fast-forwarding through the boring parts of the Games mainly focusing on the outliers. They don't matter. They're all dead now.

Finally I get to the finale, where a bloody Sirena glares at the only competitor left, a small, demure 14 year old girl from 9. The fight takes mere seconds as swift Sirena buries her sword into the girl's chest, causing her to gasp involuntarily but quickly slump to the ground, dead.

 _BOOM!_

 _"Sirena O'Hara, you are the Victor of the 106th Hunger Games!"_ Aurelia announces into the arena. My screen clicks off, earning a groan from me, but clicks back on seconds later to reveal static. Blackouts are usually common around Reaping time because the Capitol is using all our power for the ceremony. I shut the television back off and glance at my clock, which now says 6:35. I have time to sleep in until the Reaping.

...

Hours later, or at least what I believe to be hours, I groggily open my eyes to see the poster of Sirena hanging on the ceiling right above my bed. Her sea foam green eyes are always the first thing I see in the morning, and that's the way I like it.

It's 11:12 now, so I have a little less than an hour to prepare. I probably should not have slept through my last morning at home before I leave, but I need my beauty sleep. Usually my older sister, Anna, is awake by now, but she seems extra sleepy this morning. That's perfect, because I need to take something I've been meaning to take from her room for a long time.

I creak open the door, and I find Anna sprawled out on her bed, the same bed my late parents used to share. In her closet is something shimmering, the very thing I'm after. A replica dress worn by Sirena O'Hara during her Victory Tour. I tiptoe silently across the hardwood floors, not daring to even breathe. If I'm going to do this I need to steal the dress and immediately leave the house before Anna notices. I wouldn't need to swipe it at all if she wasn't so unwilling to share. I know she bought it with her own money, but she knows I'm a bigger fan of Sirena than her. Maybe she bought it to mock me.

Soon I'm at the closet door, carefully taking the dress and hanger off the rack. Once the beautiful icy blue dress is in my hands, I'm dashing for my bedroom to slide it on me. Once I finally manage to get the entire frock on me, I tidy up the makeup I put on before I started watching Sirena's tape. My reddish hair is curled up like hers with a special Capitol cream I may have borrowed from the market. Green eyes hadow is applied to distract from the fact that my eyes are brown, not green like hers. Besides from that, I'm like a mini version of Sirena. Just the look I was going for.

I jump in fear as I hear Anna's door open, and soon I'm hiding in my bedroom, praying that she distracts herself with something, anything, so I can leave. But my fears some true as she wiggles the doorknob of my bedroom until it opens, revealing a tired-looking Anna with Shelby next to her. Anna's eyes shoot open as she sees me, her sister, in her prized Sirena dress. Meanwhile, Shelby is trying to hold back laughter.

"Why are you wearing my dress?!" Anna demands, stepping closer and closer to me.

"i just... I... um," I stutter, at a loss for words. Now I'm getting worried. My own sister might kill me and I haven't even had a chance to volunteer! Almost not thinking, I dive out of my open window, landing into a small pond outside my window. I'm waist deep into the water, but luckily my hair and makeup wasn't ruined by the splash. I frantically slosh through the water until I reach land, which happens to be by the porch of our house. As I'm running away in the blazing heat, I ca hear Anna open the door. I look back to see her momentarily consider chasing after to me but I'm too far gone at this point. I'm a quickster, just like Sirena.

The summer sun dries me off quicker than I thought, I can see my skirt turning a lighter and lighter shade of blue after being soaking wet just a few minutes ago. I'm far from home by now but I keep running until the square is in sight. Very few people are here, some of them chatting with their friends. I've only had one friend in my life, and she died of malaria when we were ten. There isn't much reason to think of her anymore, because she was weak. She succumbed to a common illness. I'm going to walk into an arena with twenty-three other children and walk out unscathed when I turn 18. Sirena left the arena with only a bruised face. Normally I like to be like her in every way, but I would prefer for my face to still be pretty when the cameras are focusing on me after I win.

As the Academy students file into the square, I grin at them as they stiffly, with unhappy looks on their faces. Ever since the crazy Victor came home last year, none of the girls wanted to be Mentored by him or even be in the same room as him after he was cleared from the asylum to do Mentoring. He's a rather popular and mysterious figure in the Capitol, given how unaware they are of the true situation.

The heat drains most of my energy, causing my head to slump. I might have even fallen asleep. Is it possible to sleep standing up? I'm no horse but I think that's exactly what I did, given the next words my ears pick up.

"...in your favor!" says a muffled voice onstage.

Our escort, Louise, just did her introduction. So I _did_ sleep. In the four years I've had to attend Reapings it feels like the exact same affair every time. She dances over to the bowl and digs for a name. I'm almost tempted to volunteer myself but I can't now. Sirena was 18 when she won and that's how old I'll be when I win. Like I said, I want to be like her in any way I can.

"Dawnette Floryn!" Louise cries into the microphone. I freeze in my spot. No, no no. This can't be happening. I'm only a few seconds in my journey and I'm _already_ not like her in one aspect. She didn't get Reaped before she volunteered.

I make my way up to the stage, deflated. Someone will volunteer for me momentarily, which is good, because I want to run off this stage and cry my eyes out in my room. I let her down. I let my hero down.

"Any volunteers for Miss Dawnette?" Anna asks, addressing the crowd. I start sniffling, staring at my shoes. But my stomach starts to drop as all I hear are murmurs but no one volunteering. Maybe they're just preparing to make a grand entrance.

But ten more seconds pass, and it starts to become clear to me that I am this years female tribute. Why is no one volunteering? There's always a volunteer. The crowd gasps as they focus on something that seems to be behind me, given the way they are trying to peek at something my body is blocking. I turn my head around to see the Crazy Victor on the ground, strangling a Peacekeeper, who is wheezing and trying to catch his breath under the young man's large hands. I close my eyes, realizing the reason I'm standing here.

"O-okay!" Louise says, off-put. "It looks like our female tribute for the 112th Hunger Games is Dawnette Floryn!" Before the Capitolite makes her way to choose the boy, I grab her pale, porcelain-like hand.

"B-by the way," I tell her, my voice trembling. "My name i-is Cyrena."

* * *

 ** _Troy Jackson, 17 (D4F)_**

There's something soothing about watching the fishing boats sail out to go find our daily catch. Regrettably I can't go out there myself, as Father says it's too "risky" for someone like me, but isn't that a bit hypocritical considering he's twice my age and more fragile than me? Maybe he doesn't want his precious son who just so happens to be this year's volunteer to get hurt before the Games. I guess it makes sense, but if the arena is an ocean, he's getting some complaints when I return.

The reason my family owns so many boats is because my dad owns a giant, family owned fishing company. It's one of the most productive sources of fish in the district, which I guess is what makes it important. We have a lot of employees, so many that I'm only able to remember some of their names. I've given nicknames to those whose actual names remain a mystery to me, and who I'm too shy to awkwardly ask. It looks like the boat of Adeline, Jay, and Grizzly is leaving. Their ship specifically catches shrimp.

As the sun begins to set, I rise from my sitting form and stretch, taking in the bright array of colors painted across the horizon. Once the last of the ships depart to go work their nighttime shifts, I turn on my heel to grab the load of fish destined to the Capitol, planning on taking them somewhere else.

The litter of cats just born could be heard from miles away. They yelp helplessly nearly all night. Are they unable to sleep, or are they having a noise-making contest? At any rate, when I reach their home, an old cardboard box nestled in between two fishing crates, I drop two fish from the bag and near the kittens' feet. The mother must be out finding food, but she'll be pleasantly surprised when she comes back. The gray cats hungrily devour the raw salmon, fighting over who gets the best parts of it. The runt of the litter, a small and weak cat I've nicknamed Fisher, nibbles at the tail, having given up challenging his brothers for a more filling section of the fish. Feeling almost guilty, I retrieve a small minnow for Fisher, who leaps up and snatches the tiny fish from my hand. I'm lucky the doesn't have all his teeth yet.

I feel almost obligated to feed these cats I found just a few weeks earlier, because they seem to be the only cats in the district. Dogs are somewhat common as pets, but since we're so far away from District 10, where they're bred as Capitol pets, I have no clue how they traveled here. Perhaps someone from before the Dark Days had cats and they just managed to survive a few generations.

Not too far away from the cats is the district slum, where the most unfortunate live. We may be one of the wealthiest districts but even we have a poor population. Since everyone's probably asleep by now, I sneak the giant bag of fish behind the dumpster, where Peacekeepers won't find it but people who go there to find their food will. My heart is pounding unusually fast now, so I just turn on my heel and leave before someone can notice me.

When I reach my large house, a "mansion" as some pompous people would say, I slowly open the front door, revealing my dark, eerily large front hallway. Fake potted plants string the entrance, making you feel almost uneasy. Already spooked, I make a beeline to the staircase, almost slipping and falling on the hardwood floor. I start to tiptoe as I reach the upstairs hallway. My parent's room is open, so I have to be _very_ quiet. Unfortunately for me, they're light sleepers, and when the ground creaks under me, I hear them jolt awake.

"What's that? Who's there?" my dad asks, obviously half-asleep. I swing my room door open and silently shut it, leaping into my bed as if I were there this entire time.

"Troy?" I can hear my mom saying through the door, and my head begins to spin as he seems to walk to my room, his footsteps getting closer and closer. The door cracks open, but I can't see his face, since mine is hidden under the covers.

"Oh, you're just asleep." Dad close my door and walks away, mumbling something that sounded like "never mind". I slip into slumber quicker than I thought, because soon my eyes are fluttering open as bright light invades my vision. I excitedly look at the calendar. Officially one week until the Reaping. I hear a knock, but before I have a chance to say something, the door just opens.

"Good morning, Troy. Can I see you in the kitchen in around five minutes?" he asks, holding a mug of coffee.

"Oh, sure, Father," I reply, ruffling my hair and rising from bed. I'm a little worried he somehow knew what happened last night, but I'm good at coming up with excuses. But I won't bring it up unless he does.

I rush down into our shiny, white kitchen, wearing a bathrobe rather than being presented to my father in just a t-shirt and shorts. He sits at the table with his hands folded, staring into the window, which displays a rather pleasing view of the ocean.

"Sit, son." Dad says curtly, pointing to the chair in front of me. Concealing my discomfort, I sit down and join him in looking at the wavy sea.

"Listen, Troy. There's... something I needed to talk to you about." he tells me, leaning into my face a little too much. So he _does_ know. Before I can explain why I stole an entire bag of fish, he continues.

"I know that you're leaving soon, which is why I thought it was a good time to tell you now. You're almost eighteen years old, and I think you're ready for a big responsibility." I give him a sideways look as I hear the word "responsibility". Don't I have enough responsibility? I'm going to be in the Hunger Games soon, I have an enormous amount of pressure on me. I know I ca handle it but it slightly upsets me that it seems more is being piled on.

"What do you mean?" I ask nervously, rubbing the back of my neck. My dad takes a deep, deep breath, before unloading on me.

"I'm going to give you our fish company when you return from the arena."

"What?! No!" I bark out, but immediately clamp my hands over my mouth. I soon realize that was a mistake, because even if I don't like something my dad says, I've learned to just keep it to myself. But it was foolish of me to speak out like that.

"No? Why do you say that? Are you too spoiled to realize how big of a company you are going to receive? This will make our name known!" Dad yells at me, banging his fist on the table. "After you win the Hunger Games, you'll not only be a Victor and have _that_ wealth, but you'll _also_ have the money coming in from the company. You'll be rich beyond your wildest dreams." He crosses his arms, eyeing me like I was rotting fish, as if he's expecting a response.

"Okay," is all I manage to say, trying to come up with pros to inheriting a gigantic fishing company, one of the biggest in the district. I guess a pro would be that it would give me a lot of money, but like Dad said, the Capitol will provide me an allowance after I win. So, why now?

"Why now?" I echo from my head, testing my luck in asking something that questions his authority.

"Because I don't want you, my only son, to grow up to be a lazy snob. You'll be a Victor but you'll also have work to do for the District. It's for the best, son. Plus," he continues, tugging at his tight collar uneasily, "I'm not going to be here forever to run the business. I just want to make sure you're plenty prepared." I consider arguing with my dad, but I'm still in shock. Instead I just nod my head in defeat, desperately trying to gather my thoughts so I can come up with a statement, but silence is all I can muster as I open and close my mouth over and over again like a fish.

"I'm glad you're taking it so well, Troy. You should probably head to the Academy to say goodbye to some of your trainers," Dad begins, but coughs mid-sentence and gives me a apologetic look. "well, say goodbye until you, um, get back home." He rises from the table, wordlessly exiting the room and leaving me at the table, worried and confused. First of all, my number one priority right now is the Games. I'm leaving in seven days, and from that point forward, my focus is on my survival. But sadly for Dad, although he's talking like I'll come back, there is no guarantee that I will. The Careers that are prepared to volunteer probably want to go home more than I do right now.

* * *

 **What? Maia is still alive? Yes, I am. I am so so so so sorry it's been nearly a month and a half. My computer just got back from being repaired. Luckily, it works like a dream now. Anyways, regarding this chapter, how did you like our 4 duo? Predictions about their placements and how they'll fare in this year's Career pack? Please review! :) I love hearing your thoughts! Next is District 5, see you then!**

 **-Maia**


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